SPN's My Bloody Valentine Parody
by CastielLovesDean
Summary: What does Cupid do to Castiel in My Bloody Valentine? Read and find out. Go on. You know you want to. Alternate ending to the Apocalypse. Destiel slash. Minor Sam/Gabriel *COMPLETE! Ending now up* AT during S5E14
1. Chapter 1

**SPN's My Bloody Valentine Parody  
**_By Eli_Rogue_

_Based on the pictures at  
__http : // shocktillyoudrop . com / news / topnews . php ? id=13806 (without spaces)__  
The picture order in this fiction is:  
3, 1, 6, 5, 7, 2, 8, 9, 4_

_Disclaimer: I am not Kripke. I know, I know, it came as a shock to me, too. Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters. I'm sure Jensen's thankful._

* * *

Sam popped the last bite of his cheeseburger into his mouth as Dean interrogated Cupid. The naked Angel was trying his best to explain the events of the past few days, but Sam, Dean, and Castiel were too busy giving him dubious looks to buy the crap he was peddling.

"Seriously, guys!" Cupid pleaded with a lisp. "This isn't my fault! All I did was what I usually do – make people fall in love! Love is so beautiful!"

_That is so true_, Sam thought. _Love is beautiful. How could we have ever thought that Cupid was behind all the death?_

Castiel gave his "special" half-brother an incredulous look from his position against the rolling conveyor rack. _Does he really think any of us is stupid enough to fall for this?_

Dean didn't believe him, either. "So let me get this straight," he mocked the cherub. "You came to town, shot all these people with your little arrows, and then they went all My Bloody Valentine on each other, and you had nothing to do with it."

Cupid, special as he was, didn't catch the sarcasm. "Oh, thank goodness!" He sighed in relief. "You _do_ understand!"

Dean took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. _Killing Cupid is wrong. Killing Cupid is wrong. Killing Cupid is wrong._

"Let me handle this, Dean," Cas offered as he sidled up to face Cupid directly.

Dean graciously let him as he retreated to stand by Sam and watch.

Cupid seemed to catch on. "You don't believe me?" he asked, incredulous.

"No," Cas deadpanned.

"I'm telling the truth!" the fat, naked guy exclaimed. "You know what your problem is, Castiel?" Cupid asked pityingly. "You won't allow yourself to _feel the love_." He grabbed Cas by the shoulders.

"Unhand me!" Castiel demanded. He mightily escaped Cupid's grasp and took a large, defensive step backward. He extended his hand menacingly, not really sure what he was planning to do to his moron of a brother. His decision was taken away as Cupid vanished in a shockwave of pink light. As the wave hit him, he was pushed back abruptly and felt a warm tingle spread through his body. In seconds, it settled in his chest. It didn't hurt, so he wasn't that distressed about what his brother might have done to him.

"Oh, my God!" Sam exclaimed, taking a couple of concerned steps forward. "Are you okay, Castiel?" he asked. Yet again, he mispronounced it, "CAS-teel."

Grumpy from his encounter with Cupid, Cas growled, "It's Cas-tee-EL, Sam. Get it right! I learned to say _your_ n–" His fit was swiftly ended when he turned around and looked at Dean. He found himself staring blankly at the shorter Winchester. _When had he gotten so...?_ He couldn't finish his internal question. He couldn't even describe what Dean had gotten... or the heat he was feeling in his chest and loins because of him. "Deeeeeeeeeean," Cas moaned uncontrollably.

Sam and Dean were both startled and confused by the outburst. Then, they understood. Cupid made Cas fall in love with Dean. Or just realize it. Or maybe not be able to control himself anymore. No matter how they looked at it, Dean was in trouble.

Dean rushed to be next to Sam and hid behind his gargantuan form. "Help me, Sammy!" he cried in terror.

Sam stood his ground as Cas trudged toward him and Dean. He wasn't sure what he could _do_, but he wouldn't just leave Dean on his own.

Castiel stared threateningly into his face. "Move," he growled.

Sam all but leaped out of the way. "Sorry, man," he apologized to his brother, "you're on your own." He stood by the rolling conveyor rack and watched in worry.

Cas grabbed Dean's tie, dragged him toward one of the oddly-placed Ancient Greek columns, and pinned him against it.

"Cas-" Dean started to protest before he was cut off.

The Angel grabbed Dean by the back of his head and forced him into a demanding, possessive kiss. Almost as an afterthought, he used his free hand to roughly grab Dean's fine ass.

Dean whimpered at the molestation and tried to pry Castiel off him. It was just as useless as those times he'd attempted to shoot, stab, or punch him, and he was starting to grow some serious concerns. He could feel something hard pressing up against his hip, and he tried not to imagine how far his Angel would take this before the spell wore off.

Cas broke the kiss suddenly (but was still painfully grasping Dean's right ass-cheek) and gazed crazily into Dean's eyes. "I've wanted to do that since I first saw your beautiful soul in Hell." He paused, then admitted, "You know, I was trying to impress you when we first met in that barn. I didn't really have to knock Bobby out. And I could have just popped in next to you instead of breaking through the doors. I wanted you to be as awed by me as I was by you." He stared at Dean for another moment, then promptly fell backward, unconscious.

After an awkward minute, Sam and Dean both came to stand over Cas's blissfully sleeping form. They stared at the Angel for a few seconds, then looked at each other simultaneously.

"Dude," Sam said, "why didn't you tell me you two were a thing?"

Dean gasped indignantly. "We're not!"

_Yet._

* * *

Dun Dun Dun!!!!

Fin.

Reviews, please!


	2. Chapter 2

**SPN's My Bloody Valentine Parody**

_By Eli_Rogue_

AN: Originally, Chapter 1 was designed to be a one-shot based on some screencaps from the episode. But since llliberty and Darkqueenkat (you can find them through the reviews link to this story) subscribed to story alerts for this story, I was obligated to write at least another chapter. Therefore, any of you who like the addition(s) may forward your thanks to them by R&R-ing one of their stories. But only if you R&R mine first.

* * *

_As he watched the scene unfold before him, Cupid realized he might have hit Castiel with too much love mojo. _Oopsie_, he thought as his big brother molested the older Winchester and then passed out. Maybe it was because he'd never tried his mojo on an Angel before. Maybe Castiel was just a lightweight. He wasn't smart enough to figure it out._

"_Dude," Sam said, "why didn't you tell me you two were a thing?"_

_Dean gasped indignantly. "We're not!"_

Oh yeah?_ Cupid thought. _We'll see about that!_ He nocked a particularly potent arrow onto his bow – he figured Dean had a higher tolerance for his mojo than most humans and was pretty sure he would need an extra push to allow himself to admit his love for Castiel._

_Cupid aimed his bow at the largest, least dangerous target on Dean's body: his ass. He drew the string back and released._

* * *

Dean huffed at the thought of him and Cas being an item. Not that the Angel was a bad kisser. On the contrary; he was a very good kisser. Not that he would ever admit it to Sam. Or Cas. Or himself. Frustrated, he started to pace.

Just then, he felt something very fast graze his right ass cheek.

* * *

_Cupid gasped in shock and horror when Dean moved. His motion caused the arrow to merely nick him before continuing on its merry way to Castiel's abdomen. Cas groaned loudly when it hit him, and he started to twitch everywhere._

* * *

Dean turned toward the source of the gasp. Cupid was hovering in the corner of the room, partially obscured by the column, shortbow in hand. The moronic demi-Angel looked horrified, and Dean followed his line of sight to see what the idiot had done this time.

What he saw was Castiel still unconscious, groaning and twitching on the floor with a golden arrow protruding from his belly. The arrow slowly dissolved into pink mist, leaving a perfectly round hole in Castiel's crisp, white shirt. Cas's twitching settled, and his body relaxed against the floor as a creepy, unnatural smile crept onto his face.

Dean actually growled as he turned on Cupid. "What the Hell did you _do_?!" he screamed.

"Don't yell at me!" Cupid wailed, teleporting right in front of Dean without his bow. He engulfed Dean in a massive apology hug and sobbed. "I- didn't- mean- to-oo-oo-oo!" he managed between sobs.

Dean was still furious at Cupid, but realized it was in his own best interest to act like he wasn't. "It's okay," he lied. "Really. Let me go, calm down, and just tell me what happened." _Before I wring your freaking neck._

Cupid complied and continued to sniffle pitifully as Dean exchanged homicidal looks with Sam. Finally, Cupid explained through hiccups, "I was aiming for – hic – you, but you – hic – moved."

Dean had to close his eyes and grind his teeth to stop himself from screaming at Cupid again. The last thing he needed right then was more cherub snot slathered on his suit and tie.

Sam, however, was more capable of speech at the moment. In fact, he seemed frustratingly amused by the situation. "Cupid?" He spoke as if he were talking to a 3-year-old. "Why were you trying to shoot Dean?"

"So he and – hic – Castiel could – hic – fall in love and – hic – live happily ever – hic – after...."

Sam covered his mouth in a poor attempt to cover his snickering, and Dean gave him one of his death glares. He'd had enough. "Listen to me, you sorry little motherfu-"

Cupid wailed again, and a couple of light bulbs exploded. "I didn't – hic – _know_! I swear, I – hic – didn't know he was such – hic – a lightweight!" He cried loudly for a few seconds, gasped for air, then added, "I didn't even – hic – hit him with that much – hic – at first! Wah!"

"At _first_?!" Dean sputtered. "How much did he get?!"

"Just a – hic – little! Not even – hic – half of the normal – hic – amount!"

Sam took over the conversation, hoping that Cupid would tell them everything pertinent before he got too upset to continue. "And his reaction was unusual?"

"Uh-huh," Cupid whined, nodding. "People just get doe-eyed and sappy when I shoot them. It's never been that extreme." At least his hiccups were gone.

"And how much was in the second arrow?" Sam asked calmly. Dean, however was dreading the answer.

Cupid seemed reluctant to answer. He fidgeted in place, asking, "Do you promise you won't be mad?"

"NO!" Dean shouted.

"_Yes_," Sam overruled, shooting a glare at Dean. "We promise."

Cupid mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" Dean asked sharply.

Cupid sighed heavily. "It was double."

Dean paled.

"Double what he got before?" Sam asked.

"Double what I _normally do_."

Dean paled further.

"So what's the antidote?"

"There isn't one," Cupid complained, then added, "It lasts 24 hours."

Dean snarled at Cupid, who stepped backward defensively. Before he could do anything, however, Cas let out a loud, weary groan, and everyone stopped to stare at him. He started to sit up, breathing heavily. Dean felt his heart sink into his stomach.

Cupid reached behind himself, conjuring a brown paper bag. He forced it into Dean's hands, saying, "You might need this," and disappeared.

Sam checked on Cas, who was still woozy but becoming more alert at an alarming rate.

Dean opened the bag, hoping for Angel-roofies or a chastity belt. He pulled out a bottle and read it.

_K-Y New! Tingling Jelly Personal Lubricant Mint Scented_

"Son of a _bitch_!" Oh, yes... Cupid would die.

* * *

_tbc._

AN: I know: I'm terrible for leaving it here. My apologies. More reviews, faster updating.


	3. Chapter 3

**SPN's My Bloody Valentine Parody**

_By Eli_Rogue_

AN: I tried really hard here to balance erotic and funny content. I call it "comerotica." Maybe "erotedy?" Whatever. Let me know how it turned out, okay?

* * *

So there he was, cursing everything he knew about Cupid with his back to Sam and Castiel. He impetuously threw the K-Y against the wall in a rage, not bothering to consider the potential ramifications, and started to fantasize about all the cruel things he would do to Cupid. Unfortunately, Dean didn't get long to plot Cupid's painful, bloody demise before he was enveloped in an unsettling, tender hug from behind. _Thanks for the warning, Sam!_ "Hey, Cas," he greeted gingerly.

Cas silently laid tiny kisses on Dean's neck and hairline. "Hello, Dean." He moved his hands up and undid Dean's tie.

As Cas slipped Dean's tie off his head, Dean took a few very large steps forward and spun around to confront the Angel.

Castiel's eyes were closed, and he was holding Dean's tie up to his own nose and breathing deeply. "Smells like you," he said seductively.

Dean exchanged a panicked glance with Sam, mouthing, _Help me out of this!_

Sam threw his arms out to the side, agitatedly mouthing back, _What do you want me to do?!_

Dean shrugged angrily and mouthed, _Anything!_

Castiel opened his eyes and stared intently at Dean. He slipped the tie into his pocket and started walking slowly forward. "Dean... do you remember the time you swore not to let me die a virgin?"

He didn't like where Cas was going with that. "Yeah...," he cautiously answered, taking a few steps back. He backed right into that inconveniently-placed column and tried to duck sideways, but Castiel grabbed his arm with much of his Angelic strength and held him fast against the column.

Cas kissed him on the lips this time, but thankfully didn't try to slip him the tongue. Yet. "Well..." Cas explained, kissing his neck and unbuttoning a button, "when you made that oath," two buttons, "then walked into the next room," three buttons, "I thought you were going to go up the stairs..." four buttons, "and take me with you." He looked down and stared at Dean's muscle shirt peeking out from under his nice dress shirt. He touched a finger to it, then, a second later, gripped the collar and violently tore the undershirt free from Dean's torso, letting the ruined fabric flutter to the floor. He smirked smugly and continued his quest to kiss his way down Dean's body.

Dean gasped in shock when his shirt was ripped away. He looked pathetically toward Sam, who was just frozen in place with his puppy-eyes wide and hands covering his mouth. By the time Cas started sucking on his collarbone, he composed himself enough to swear, "I _just meant_ I was gonna get you laid."

Suddenly, Cas's large eyes were boring into Dean's. "That's not what you _said_," the Angel growled into his face. After a tense moment, his features softened, and he cocked his head, letting his eyes trail to Dean's pretty mouth. "We've been through a lot together, and I think I know you're a man of your word." He kissed those lips, harder this time, forcing his tongue inside once again.

Dean tensed and squirmed against the assault, trying to pry his right arm out of Cas's strong grip and push him away with his left. It didn't work any better than the last time. In fact, it got worse: Castiel removed his right hand from Dean's chest to grab the mortal's left arm, then wrenched both of his arms around the column and held his wrists together. Dean moaned in protest as Cas removed Dean's tie from his pocket to bind his hands.

Finally, Castiel broke the kiss and looked Dean in the eye once more. "You are, aren't you? A man of your word?" Cas just smiled broadly at Dean's defiant stare and started kissing his chest again.

Dean released the breath he'd been holding and let his head fall against the column. After a few seconds of struggling uselessly again his bonds and letting Cas kiss, lick, and suck his way around his torso, Dean took another calming breath and opened his eyes. And – _what the fuck_ – Sam was still just _standing there_, staring at Cas and Dean in horror. Suffice it to say, Dean was somewhat less than impressed. How many times had he saved Sam's ass when he was tied up or dead? Too many to count. _What are you doing?!_ he mouthed angrily. _Go!_ he continued, jerking his head toward the door across the room. _Do something!_

Sam thought hard for a second, then nodded, _Okay!_ He sneaked toward the door as quietly as he could.

Castiel rose to meet Dean's eyes and kissed him demurely on the tip of his nose. "Don't go anywhere," he whispered with a chuckle, and vanished.

Sam got to the door without looking back and opened it, only to be confronted by a quite unamused Castiel. Sam leaped back in shock and glanced back at Dean, who was still tied to the column, but alone.

"And where are _you_ going, Sam Winchester?"

Sam froze a little. "Uh... ah... I... just thought... you... might like to be alone... with Dean?" _Certainly not to get holy oil or an Enochian spellbook._

Castiel walked menacingly toward Sam. "For some time now, I have considered you a friend," he admitted, "but you _will not_ interfere with my plans for your brother. I would prefer not to have to harm you." He stared Sam down for another moment, then, when he was certain that Sam was sufficiently subdued, he ordered, "Give me your tie and stand against that column." He had no clue why there were so many damn ornamental columns in that room, but they sure did come in handy at times like this. Sam submissively did as he was told, and Cas bound his hands on the other side of the column, just as he had with Dean. He roughly grabbed Sam's hair to force eye-contact and growled, "Am I going to hear anything more out of you?"

Sam shook his head vigorously.

Cas shot Sam one last warning glare before walking back over to Dean. He grinned predatorily. "Now... where were we?" Slowly, he leaned forward and inhaled Dean's scent. "Mmm," he purred. "You smell good." He licked Dean's neck. "You taste good, too." In no time, he licked and kissed his way back to where he was, un-tucking and unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

Dean's natural instinct was to fight. Not just against this, but against everything. Dean was a fighter by nature, and, as it turned out, being tied up and molested was a strong trigger for his fight instinct. Unfortunately, he had few anti-Angel weapons in his cache and none at his immediate disposal. Besides, as much as he cared for the Angel and didn't want anything bad to happen to him, the fact of the matter was Castiel was his best anti-Angel weapon, and he simply couldn't risk getting him killed – even for the sake of his man-cherry. Time for Plan B. "Cas."

"Hm?" the Angel hummed with his tongue in Dean's belly-button.

Dean took a calming breath. "Cas, you need to stop. This isn't real."

"It _is_ real." He slid his hand down and grabbed Dean's ass. "Feel that? Real."

"No! I mean, this isn't _you_!" he explained, squirming. "Cupid is making you do this, but you can fight it!"

"I probably could."

"I know you could!"

Cas stood and looked Dean in the eye. He blinked once and asked, "Why should I?"

This was Dean's chance. It was now or never: the moment of truth. He furrowed his brow, batted his eyelashes, and, with a pout, did his best sad!Sammy impression. "Cas, please...." He hated Plan B; it was demeaning and considerably more difficult than Plan A, a.k.a. Kick Some Ass. Wasn't as much fun, either. Nevertheless, Dean held the pout and eye-contact hoping against hope that it would work.

Just when he thought it might be working, Cas smiled and gushed, "You are so adorable," and kissed him gently but firmly on the mouth. He slid Dean's jacket and shirt off his shoulders. He abruptly broke the kiss and cast his gaze downward, glaring at Dean's shirts as they hung about his elbows. Castiel had little experience with manual disrobing and hadn't taken Dean's bound hands into account. He realized he would have to untie the hunter if he was to get those shirts where they belong: the floor.

"You know," Cas said as he walked around Dean to untie his hands, "I've never been intimate with anyone before. In any manner." He finished untying the complicated knot and, holding onto Dean's wrist, walked back around the column to face him once again. "No matter what we do," he pointed out with a sly grin, "it will be my first time."

Dean glared at him and snarled acerbically, "I'll be gentle."

The sarcasm was lost on Cas, who cocked his head in confusion. Calmly, he insisted, "That won't be necessary." He grabbed Dean's other wrist and, with the strength of Heaven, threw him violently to the floor.

Since Plan B clearly didn't work, Dean made a last-ditch effort that he knew all too well was in vain: run away. He scrambled on the floor to get to his feet but didn't even get one foot flat on the ground before he was roughly tackled by Castiel. The next thing he knew, he was being flipped onto his back and pinned to the floor. He kicked and thrashed in a panic, but Cas mumbled something in Enochian and Dean's wrists and feet were suddenly adhered to the floor. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, Cas maneuvered himself between Dean's knees and started to undo his pants.

"Holy debauchery, Cupid!" an obnoxious, familiar voice rang out. "You weren't kidding!"

As he realized who owned that voice, Dean prayed for death. Oh, what he wouldn't have given in that moment to see Tessa again.

"I _told_ you they were here!" Cupid whined.

Dean clenched his jaw as the newcomer approached him slowly and clicked his tongue at him. "Well, well, well...," he drawled, "Dean Winchester." He poked Dean in the ribs with a shoe and giggled immaturely. "Looks like you've gotten yourself into quite a pickle!"

"Yeah - I get it; this is hilarious. Help me out here!"

Gabriel laughed loudly and invidiously in his face. "Why on Dad's green Earth would I wanna do _that_?"

"You owe me!" Dean pointed out, squirming under Castiel's hands and lips. "I could have left you in that circle of Holy Fire, and you would have _deserved_ it!"

"Oh, sure, throw _that_ in my face." In response to Dean's glare, he rolled his eyes and sighed melodramatically. "And what _exactly_ would you have me do?"

"I don't know! You're the creative one!"

Gabriel chuckled smugly. "That's true."

"Just... trap him somewhere until this wears off or something...." Dean noticed Gabriel getting a devious gleam in his eye and added, "Somewhere _safe_!"

Gabriel seemed to genuinely ponder his request. Finally, he decided, "Sorry, kiddo; no can do. Deal with your own problems." Then, he turned around and walked away.

"What?! Get back here, you little – mmmm!" He didn't get to finish his thought on account of Cas's lips suddenly covering his own.

Gabriel walked up to Sam, concerned at how long it took him to start heckling the Sasquatch - he would have to work on that. "Sammy!" he greeted the taller man. "This is a good look for you: tied up and silent." He laughed and gently ran a finger along Sam's jaw.

Sam jerked his head away from the unwanted touch and glanced worriedly toward Castiel. Would Cas make good on his threat if he told Gabriel where to shove it? He said nothing, opting instead to wield the Your-Antics-Do-Not-Amuse-Me face he created just for the trickster.

Gabriel, however, wasn't concerned with Castiel. He suspected that Cupid must have given him a contact high, but that didn't make the emo Winchester brother any less ravishable – thick cro-magnon skull and all. Something a couple feet away caught his eye, and he summoned it. A tube flew into his outstretched hand, and, upon reading it, he cackled maniacally. "Ooh!" he cried in joy. "Lube!" He waved the K-Y in Sam's face with a smirk and vowed, "We are going to need _every last drop _of this." Before Sam could protest or yell for help (not that anyone was available, anyway), he touched two fingers to his forehead and left the room.

Meanwhile, after Gabriel stopped harassing Dean, and Castiel had finished his shut-up kiss, Dean looked to Cupid for help. "Cupid!" he cried. "Look, I know you can't fix him, but there has to be _something _you can do to stop him before he rapes me!"

Cupid covered his mouth and gasped in horror. "He would _never_ do that!"

The hunter's pants were down around his ankles now, and Castiel was straddling his shins and fumbling with his shoes; Dean had his doubts. He scoffed and argued, "Are you _sure_ about that?"

Cupid sighed, calming himself easily. "It doesn't work like that, silly! He'll only make love to you if you want it," he explained. At Dean's skeptical look, he extended a hand toward Dean's head and offered, "Here, like this...."

"NO!!!!"

But it was too late.

* * *

tbc. BWHAHAHA. Review, for the love of Cas and Gabe's Dad, Review! Who wants to see a chapter about what Gabriel does to Sam? Please, tell me how Dean and Cas should get it on in Chapter 4! After all, they have 24 whole hours, the combined stamina of a hunter and an angel, and a fanfic writer who (unfortunately) isn't a mind-reader. /-_-\

AN: I know, I'm a horrible, horrible person. Just to warn those of you who haven't yet figured it out, the next chapter will likely be rated M, and I wanted to keep this rated T for as long as I could.


	4. Chapter 4

**SPN's My Bloody Valentine Parody – Chapter 4**

_By Eli_Rogue_

AN: I am not in the habit of writing graphic stuff – please let me know if it was okay.

* * *

For the life of him, Dean Winchester couldn't figure out why he had been protesting so much before. As he strained to stare at the back of Castiel's head, he tried to think of a reason – any reason. It certainly wasn't any lack of fondness for the Angel – and while 'nerdy' wasn't usually his type, Cas was easily attractive enough for Dean, even while sober. Dean figured it might have something to do with the fact that Cas was a man, but that just didn't seem to matter to him anymore. He smiled when Cas finished finagling with his shoes and finally got his slacks all the way off.

Their eyes met in silent understanding when Castiel turned around to continue ravishing him: Dean no longer wished to get away. Cas lifted the bondage spell and they embraced on the floor, taking their time with Dean's first consensual (more or less) kiss with Castiel.

Cas casually slid a finger under the waistband of Dean's underwear, but was prevented from removing the offending article by Dean's hand. He looked into the man's eyes, which betrayed frustratingly little of his mental or emotional states. Had he changed his mind? He hoped he wouldn't have to bind him to the floor again. "What's the matter?" Cas asked.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "How come I'm down to my socks and underwear, and you haven't even taken off that damn coat?"

Cas blinked at the question. He supposed Dean had a point, and in another blink, Cas's state of undress mirrored Dean's. "Is this more satisfactory?"

"Oh, yeah." After all, Castiel had a very nice body. Dean couldn't say it was the nicest male body he'd seen in person – unfortunately, that probably belonged to Sammy. But it was still fantastic – especially for a holy tax accountant. His bulky, boring clothes didn't do it justice at all.

They continued to make out and touch each other all over, shortly finding themselves divested of what little clothing they had left. Dean found out that Castiel's body felt as nice as it looked. Especially his ass; Cas had an ass for days. In fact, it might have been Dean's favorite part of his body. Dean attributed its firmness to the fact that the Angel never sat, therefore never squishing it.

It wasn't long before Castiel maneuvered himself between Dean's legs. Excited as he was, Dean couldn't help but feel like something important was missing when something whacked the side of his head. His hand flew there reflexively to see what it was, only to wind up grasping the bottle of K-Y that Cupid had so generously left them. Dean looked around to see how it got there and saw Gabriel wave cheerfully at him. He was leaning against Sam, who was tied to the column (though he could have sworn they'd already left). Sam's eyes were boring into him in a way that would have been unsettling had he not been more interested in something else.

Dean handed the lube to Cas, then leaned back to watch him work his magic. He was reminded of Castiel's still-intact (for now) virginity when the first thing Castiel did was read the instructions on the bottle. Dean thought that was adorable. Not terribly confidence-building... but adorable. Finally, Cas opened the bottle, squirted some of the jelly on his hand, and examined it closely with those innocent, curious eyes of his.

"Hey, Castiel!" they heard Gabriel call out from beside a very distraught-looking Sam, whose eyes were still painfully open. "Rub it on your dick, and use the rest of it to stretch out his asshole!"

That was a bit more vulgar than Dean would have said it... maybe... but it seemed to do the trick. Dean got to watch as Cas spread the lube up and down his shaft with rapidly increasing confidence. He only stared at his messy, lubricated hand for a moment before gently sliding a finger into Dean's virgin manhole... the only part of Dean that still _was_ virgin.

Dean allowed his head and shoulders to fall back to the floor so he could close his eyes and concentrate on the new sensations he was experiencing. Now, as much as he adored Castiel, having someone's lubricated finger in his butt wasn't the greatest feeling in the world. Two was about the same, and three was a little uncomfortable. He got a head rush as he felt those fingers leave and something else press up against his hole. For several seconds, as it stayed there, awaiting admittance, he could just make out the sound of someone talking over the blood in his ears.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Cas pressed in, oh-so-slowly filling Dean with his cock. It was much, much better than the fingers. It may have had something to do with the natural smoothness of a penis, and it probably had a lot to do with the fact that penises don't have nails, but this was something he could enjoy _'til death do us part_.

Cas pulled back just as slowly, and pushed back in a little faster. He sped up more slowly than necessary, but then this was his first time, and eventually, he'd learn exactly what to do to Dean. In the meantime, though, Dean had to urge him, "Faster."

What he got in response was both faster _and_ harder. Much better. After several rapidly intensifying thrusts, when Dean wasn't sure anal sex could get better, there was that pesky voice again, and something changed. Dean nearly screamed. He couldn't put into words what he felt, but if he could, he would have called it an explosion. There was this fantastic shockwave of pleasure radiating from somewhere in his rear, sending ripples of joy to every fiber of his being. And it jolted him over and over and over and over and... well, you get the idea.

Dean had no idea how loud he was being – very – but even if he had, he wouldn't have cared. After a few minutes of rough fucking, Castiel only had to stroke his cock once... twice... three times before he came, covering himself in about a teaspoon of pearly white goo. Normally, this would be about the time Cas collapsed on Dean, the latter's semen adhering their stomachs together, but Cas was an Angel with infinite stamina.

Instead of collapsing, Cas chose to freeze in place, watching Dean pant and wheeze in ecstasy. It was better than even watching the man sleep. They laid like that for a while as Dean struggled to catch his breath. Every now and then, they exchanged kisses: little pecks about the face and neck intertwined with a few deep, passionate smooches. Their fingers combed each other's short hair and caressed each other's toned muscles. Dean thought that if he pierced his left nipple, and Cas pierced his right nipple, they'd clink when they fucked. The fantasy turned him on again, and he opened his eyes to gaze at Cas.

He snapped them shut again as they were accosted by a bright, burning light that Dean feared was Castiel's true form. Of course, if he'd just gone blind, he thought it might have hurt more. Slowly, he opened his eyes again and saw that the bright light didn't come from Castiel, but rather from behind him. He looked around in surprise. They were no longer in the storage room of a bar – they were outside.

Nearby was a large lake that was teeming with ducks and waterlilies. They were laying on the wet sand bordering the lake. Last Dean knew, it was nighttime, so he was naturally curious when he asked, "Where are we?"

"This place has many names," Cas answered unhelpfully.

"Any that I'd recognize?"

"You know it as The Garden of Eden."

"What?" Dean's shocked interjection was interrupted by a hand over his mouth. Cas was giving him a familiar I'll-let-go-if-you'll-be-quiet look, and Dean nodded.

"A Seraph guards the entrance to the Garden; no humans have been allowed since the banishment of Adam and Eve." Cas cast a wary glance over the lake. "We must not attract his attention."

Dean smiled, already having concocted a plan. "Well then," he whispered, rolling them over to land atop Castiel, "we better not make too much noise." He kissed Castiel harder than he had yet and slipped between his thighs despite the smaller man's weak and unenthusiastic protests.

"We shouldn't do this, Dean. The sentinel could discover our presence."

Dean pouted melodramatically. "So you don't want to fuck me in the Garden of Eden? I mean, that's why we're here, right?" Predictably, Cas succumbed to Dean's requests, and the two of them made passionate, silent love in the sand of a beach in the Garden of Eden.

Afterward, when they were certain that the Seraph was blissfully unaware of their trespass, they were free to explore the vast Garden at their leisure. Just past the sandy fringes of the lake's beach were patches of vine-grown fruits and vegetables. Dean wasn't one to eat a lot of things that weren't greasy, processed, or artificial, but he'd be lying if he said those strawberries didn't look delicious. He popped one into his mouth with the intent of just having one or two but soon found himself so full he could hardly breathe. He got Cas to sit with him in the adjacent pumpkin patch and listen while he told him everything he knew about pumpkin pie. In fact, Dean got himself so excited at the thought of pie that, when he finished his anecdote, he lay Cas across a mass of vines and did him between two large pumpkins.

They slowly followed a dirt trail hand-in-hand for a while, exchanging stories about successful hunts and inconsistencies in the King James Bible. It eventually led to a small bridge that transversed a stoney creek. Dean allowed Cas to bend him over the banister of the bridge as he watched the koi blink up at him. _Stupid, judgmental fish_. On the other side of the bridge was an apple orchard. Walking through it made Dean feel like he was in Oz, and he kept an eye on the trees lest they start chucking fruit at him. Dean quickly reassured himself that the trees weren't alive – not in the Dorothy Gale way, in any case – but also realized they weren't all apple trees. There were peach and orange and cherry trees, as well as many more both familiar and foreign to Dean.

Cas found a smooth clearing with particularly soft grass in the middle of two apple trees and a pear tree. Dean bottomed, once again, allowing himself to relax in Castiel's hands and watch the sunlight filter through the treetops. In that moment, he thought that, if Heaven were as good as this, his free will would be a small price to pay to feel like this forever. Of course, his innate obstinacy kicked in, and he reminded himself that he would never, ever say, 'Yes,' to Michael. The only Angel he'd allow inside him was Cas – and that was just his penis.

Though, now that they'd done it several times, Dean realized he _really had to pee_. He usually didn't wait so long after doing it one time to relieve himself, much less five times. He'd never had a lover that could distract him so efficiently from this basic human bodily function. He wriggled his way free of Castiel's comfy embrace, explaining with an apologetic tone that this was just one of those things humans had to do.

Not wanting to pee right in front of Cas, he wandered several yards away until he found a good peeing tree and relieved himself upon it. He was immensely proud of himself for not getting any on his feet or legs and rewarded himself with indulging in picking a fruit from the tree.

It was a strange fruit, like a purple pear-apple hybrid, and he couldn't smell it through its skin, but if those strawberries he had earlier were any indication, it would be scrumptious. He rubbed it against one of its own leaves in an attempt to clean it as he heard soft footsteps approach.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from the pome in his hand. Although Castiel's expressions had gotten easier to read in the last year, he wasn't sure if the Angel looked pissed or disgusted. "Yeah?"

"Did you just... _urinate_ on the Tree of Life?" Cas asked incredulously.

"Uh..." _Tree of Life_? Dean knew little about The Bible, and what he did know was all from _Revelations_, which didn't seem to cover the Garden of Eden. However, now that Cas mentioned it, he recalled that there was, in fact, a sacred tree that people weren't supposed to eat from. Was this that tree?

Cas's focus shifted slightly, and his jaw clenched. "Did you _pluck a fruit_ from the Tree of Life?" Angry. That was definitely angry.

Dean hid the fruit behind his back and guessed with a crooked grin, "No?"

Before Cas could scold him (or maybe spank him, Dean considered hopefully), there was a terrible, Earth-shaking screech that nearly made Dean jump out of his skin. Cas searched the garden for whatever made the noise. "Get down!" He hissed suddenly, throwing Dean to the ground at the base of the tree.

"Eeeeew," Dean complained as his naked legs and side were pressed against the newly-wet bark and dirt. The last time he was covered in pee was... Okay, wrong-kind-of-kinky chicks aside, the last time was when Sam was four and he wet the bed they were sharing. Not that it mattered to Cas; he was peering around the tree like a child playing hide-and-seek, smashing his groin into Dean's face in the process. Dean playfully poked Cas's penis.

Cas looked down at him. "This is serious, Dean," he whispered. "The Sentinel has realized something is wrong." There was another loud noise, and Cas glanced toward the source once more. "We must leave. Now." He put his hand on Dean's head, and they were no longer in the Garden.

Instead, they were back in the darkened, cheesy bathroom of their darkened, cheesy motel room, and Dean quickly discovered that sitting butt-naked on an 80's-style floor vent was uncomfortable. Cas was still deathly tense, which made Dean tense, and they sat (in Dean's case) and stood (in Cas's case) just like that for a couple minutes, waiting for the Seraph to track them there.

Eventually, when Dean was pretty sure it wasn't coming after them (and why should it, with their fancy ribcage sigils, and all?), he stood up, flipped the light-switch, and broke the silence. "I need a shower."

"And I must bring this back to Eden," Cas countered, taking the fruit away from Dean. "I will return before the cessation of your shower." He moved as if to step away from Dean, but Dean grabbed his wrist.

"What's the rush?" he asked. "I mean, that Seraph was pretty pissed. You might want to give him some time to cool off." He took in Cas's grimy appearance – the sand in his hair, the grass stains on his hands and knees, the dirt-and-jizz-caked torso – and added, "Besides, you could use a shower, too."

Cas cocked his head. "Dean, I do not require manual means of cleansing this body."

"But it's kind of drafty in here, and the water's nice and hot," he singsonged in an attempt to entice the Angel.

"Angels are not susceptible to the idiosyncrasies of temperature."

"Damn it, Cas," Dean huffed, "I wanna fuck in the shower."

Cas blinked. "Oh," he responded, feeling a tad foolish. "Very well." He set the fruit on the counter and allowed Dean to lead him into the bathtub.

And he thought the Impala was confining. He found out the hard way that, when it came to a lack of personal space, the back seat of a classic car had nothing on a dingy motel tub. He patiently waited in the back corner of the tub as Dean toyed with the hot and cold knobs before finally turning the shower on.

Dean grabbed the manliest-looking bottle of shower gel Walgreen's carried, lathered some on a washcloth, and handed it to Castiel.

Cas eyed the rag dubiously. "I thought you intended for us to... 'fuck.'"

Dean closed his eyes and shivered at the dirty word coming out of Cas's mouth. Good thing there was soap nearby. "It's supposed to be erotic," Dean explained. "If you don't like soaping me up, we don't ever have to do this again."

"I see." As it turned out, Cas truly enjoyed washing Dean. This way, he got to explore every part of Dean's spectacular body without... what did Dean call it?... 'that creepy vibe.' At first, he gently applied the soap to Dean's back, but he scrubbed with more fervor when Dean commanded, "Harder." He should have known Dean would like it rough given the way he made love.

As he made his way down Dean's back, he lingered a little – okay, a lot longer than necessary on Dean's butt. But why wouldn't he? It was a nice butt, hard like 2014 Dean, yet perky like 2005 Dean.

"Make sure you're thorough, Cas; I'm a dirty boy."

"You're hardly a boy, Dean, though you seem to have accumulated enough filth on your body during our –" He stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of Dean staring at him over his shoulder in amusement and realized it was probably just a _human_ thing. "Yes, you are certainly a 'dirty boy.'"

Cas managed to finish washing Dean without engaging in anything more than eyesex – and they'd been doing _that_ since they first met. Then, he learned that being washed by Dean could be just as pleasurable as washing him. Oh, they'd gotten plenty of physical contact traipsing around the Garden of Eden, but there was something decidedly more intimate about the kind of touching required during a shower. It was nice to have Dean caress every inch of his body with the soapy rag while the shower-head pummeled him with water. It was like being in a rainstorm... a sexy rainstorm.

Now, when it came time to do this 'fucking' Dean had promised Cas, Dean knew better than to use soap in place of lube. So, he reached for Sam's fancy hair conditioner instead. Dean couldn't list all the metro things he made fun of Sam for doing or having, but this high-priced, only-available-at-'salons' crap was one of his favorites. That, and calling them 'salons.' _Please_. Dean may have been the one about to fuck a man in the shower, but at least he wasn't _girly_.

He squirted about a quarter of the bottle's total volume into his palm and started stroking himself. It wasn't that he needed that much; he just wanted to irritate Sam. It was his second favorite pastime after sex. And if he could do both at once, great!

"Okay," he said, facing Castiel. "Hop on."

Cas frowned. "I do not understand."

"Here's how it works, Cas: you jump up, wrap your legs around me, and we'll do it that way."

Cas's brow furrowed as he glanced around the shower. "Are you sure you should be engaging in acrobatics in such a slippery environment at your age?"

Dean gaped at Cas. Did he just imply that he was _old_? "At '_my age_'? I'm thirty-one!" He sputtered as he tried to express too many objections at once. Cas, for instance, had to be thousands of years old. And while men his age who had spent their twenties studying and sitting at a desk tended to be tubby and out of shape, Dean spent his hunting, fighting, and generally keeping very fit. His raw, undeniable sexiness should have been proof enough of that. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure that he was in better physical condition than most early-twenties men in their sexual peaks. So where the Hell did that insolent Angel get off calling him old? Speaking of _getting off_, "Just do it; I'll be fine, I promise!"

Cas shrugged – a more human thing than Dean was used to seeing him do – and tried it. He leapt onto Dean in a way most people romanticize would be fun and playful.

Dean learned something then. He learned that Cas was very smart – that, or he was psychic. Either way, Dean didn't enjoy it when he slipped backwards, hit his head on the wall and his tailbone on the bathtub... twice. Bouncing was a bitch.

Hitting his tailbone made him yelp in a way he'd deny later, and he hissed through his teeth. For a moment, all he could do was sit there under Cas's wet, immaculate body, torn between soothing his aching coccyx and his aching cock. Of course, this was Dean Winchester, and no amount of blood lost or limbs dangling by a tendon and three inches of skin could keep him from getting laid.

He disguised a groan of pain as a moan of pleasure in a way he thought was smooth – though it wasn't – and asked, "Mmm, isn't this nice?"

Castiel looked him unflinchingly in the face. His eyes said, "I can see into your soul, you idiot, and I know you hurt yourself but are too adorably stubborn to admit it," but his lips said, "Is this how you would like to copulate?"

Dean leaned back in the tub, feigning serenity. "Ready when you are." As Cas leaned forward, Dean realized he was surprised that they hadn't done the cowgirl thing yet. Er, cowboy. Cow_angel_? Whatever. The point is: they hadn't fucked with one of them straddling the other from the top, and Dean tended to really enjoy this position.

Cas slowly lowered himself onto Dean's hard penis, which was, needless to say, very nice. It made Dean forget all about his maybe-broken tailbone and really groan in pleasure this time. That is, until Cas switched from gentle to maniac like _that_. Just imagine someone snapping their fingers, okay? Thanks.

The Angel of the Lord started impaling himself viciously on Dean's cock, which normally would have been a great thing, but ended up repeatedly jamming Dean's tender tailbone against the cast-iron tub. Dean made a strangled, painful noise, and quickly cried, "Stop!"

Cas didn't look that surprised when he condescendingly asked, "Is something wrong, Dean?"

Dean had little hope of hiding his discomfort, what with his comically scrunched-up face and all, but he tried to pass it off as something else. "It's just... your feet are pinching my hips." He pretended that Cas looked like he believed him. "Do you think we could move to the floor and finish there?"

Castiel seemed tempted to insist on staying in the tub, which worried Dean. After all, he was far too macho to admit that a little pain could keep him from enjoying an orgasm, and he would just end up spending the next twenty minutes or so dying a little inside with every desperate thrust. Thankfully, Cas agreed, got out of the tub, and got on his hands and knees on the bathroom rug. He looked over his shoulder and asked with a twinkle in his eye, "Coming?"

Make that _ten _minutes. "Yeah," he said, trying to get to his feet without groaning, creaking, or popping. He still couldn't believe Castiel thought he was old. Moving on, he grabbed Sam's hair conditioner and followed Cas out of the tub.

He squirted some of the conditioner directly onto Cas this time and let it fall to the floor next to them. He didn't bother to ease in, as they had already started and he knew for a fact that Cas was ready, making the Angel gurgle with surprise. That reaction gave Dean a smug sense of justice since he knew that Cas had intentionally aggravated his tailbone owie. But then he felt a little guilty; it's not like he could have harmed Cas, even if he tried, but only bitches used sex as a weapon, and Dean Winchester was no bitch.

As he thrust in and out of Castiel, he leaned forward and kissed the scratches he'd put there earlier that day. For a while, their rhythm went something like this: thrust, moan (Cas) and kiss (Dean), pull back, repeat. The conditioner pulled its weight as a lubricant better than the few other conditioners he'd tried in the past, and an unfortunate thought occurred to Dean as he was approaching climax. Perhaps Sam indulged in expensive conditioners because of its secondary use as a lubricant. Was Sam's lack of desire for busty blonde bimbos due to whacking it in the shower regularly? He hoped not – he had to use the shower after him half the time.

And why the fuck was he thinking about Sam's masturbatory habits during sex? Eew, eew, eew! Oh, no, he was losing stiffness! He had to think of something quick! _Boobs!_ Okay, not working so much for gay sex... _The Impala!_ That helped a little, but not enough. _Warm apple pie!_

Bingo.

You know, some people think that ADD is no big deal, but clearly, it can ruin lives.

As he neared climax again, he smeared his hand in the conditioner and gave Cas a reach-around. Since Dean was so skilled between the sheets (or on the bathroom floor, as it were), he was able to time his thrusts and strokes perfectly so that they came at the same time. Granted, all of his previous experiences had been with women (because he's not counting that one time he was drunk and that guy in the kilt had a very small adam's apple – he's _not_, damn it!), but his natural talent was such that he didn't need much experience at all to be compatible with Castiel. Also, and he didn't know this, he just so happened to be destined to be with Castiel forever.

Castiel spilled himself all over the tile floor and absorbent rug – though he was fairly spent from spending most of the day _spilling himself_ various ways. Dean almost came inside of Cas – and had no concern for pregnancy or STD's should he have done so – but decided at the last minute to pull out and shoot his load at the floor, where it merged with Cas's in a sticky parallel to what the two of them had just finished doing.

They rested for a moment. Actually, Cas allowed Dean to rest draped bonelessly (pun definitely intended) over him. Then, they stood together and left the tiny bathroom, taking care to not step in the mess they just created together.

They crawled into Dean's bed together with surprisingly little intent to fuck again. Instead, they agreed that cuddling was in order and, in Dean's case, sleep.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean asked when they were snugly under the covers.

"Yes?"

"How do you say, 'You are so sexy,' in Enochian?"

Cas thought about it. "There is no literal translation for 'sexy,' Dean. Until I met you, Angels had no need for it." He considered it a moment longer and suggested, "I suppose I could say, 'OL G-CHIS-GE OLLOR BABALOND.'"

Dean smiled. "What does that mean?"

"'You're a whore.'"

Dean gasped at the gibe. "Hey!"

"But I would prefer to tell you that OL G-CHIS-GE IAL VVRBS, OLLOG OD OLANI HOATH OL."

This time, Dean was a little more suspicious. "And what does that mean?" he asked with a wary pout.

Cas shifted to look Dean in the eye. "You are truly beautiful, and I love you," he translated, kissing him hard on the lips.

Dean grinned like an idiot into the kiss and laid his head on Castiel's chest. He fell asleep quickly, as he was known to do, and soon Castiel found himself watching Dean sleep for the hundredth time – only this time he didn't feel like a voyeur. Watching someone sleep was so much better when that person knew about it and didn't mind. Dean slept for several hours, and Cas was thrilled to bear witness to every snore, grunt, and glob of drool that came out of the mortal man. As the hours trudged on, Cas was consumed on more than one occasion with the urge to awaken him for more fornication, but he didn't have the heart to deprive Dean of his rest. Dean worked hard, was clearly exhausted, and deserved his slumber. Sex would have to wait.

Sometime in the evening, however, that line of thinking came screeching to a halt. It wasn't that he no longer desired to feel Dean's body on, under, in, and around him – that was just the same as it had been since he'd seen his breathtaking soul in Hell. No, it changed from, _I should wait to ravish him until he's awoken by himself_, to, _What have I done? Dean would never have consented to this had he not been influenced by Cupid._ The guilt he felt was worse than any emotion he had ever experienced – in the past year and a half, anyway. He wanted to stay away from Dean, he wanted to hug Dean, he wanted to beg for his forgiveness... Mostly, he wanted things to be the way they had been twenty-four hours earlier, when he was silently pining away for a Dean Winchester that was straight, stubborn, and destined to bring about the End of Days.

He carefully tried to extricate himself from Dean, but the larger man's embrace only tightened, and Cas had no way of leaving without disturbing him. He knew he only had a couple of minutes until Cupid's spell on Dean wore off and there would be Hell to pay.

His designs for a speedy getaway were interrupted by a sudden loud, high-pitched honking noise that made Cas twitch and Dean wake with a start.

"Sam?" Dean asked sleepily. Sam had indeed returned, but not in the suit he had been wearing when they last saw each other one day earlier. Dean blinked at his brother a few times, expecting to see something else – anything else – but just ended up confused. "What's with the clown getup?"

Sam wearily sighed, "Don't ask."

* * *

A/N: Meh, this one wasn't as good as the first few, methinks. This is what I get for pandering to the masses. Well, next time I write a one-shot and someone subscribes to a story alert, I'm going to ignore them. Maybe. *fail* Probably not. /-_-\

In my defense, I haven't written graphic stuff before... unless you count one LOTR spongebath, like, 7 years ago. You should have seen me writing the sex in the shower part: "Cas slowly lowered himself onto Dean's..." *rubs face* "...h-a-r-d..." *rubs face more vigorously* "...p-e-n-i-s" *complains*, lol

Enochian found at tikaboo-dot-com.

Also, I learned a new word that I must use in my story: fatidic – of, related to, or characterized by prophecy. Naturally, it applies to Dean and Castiel's relationship.


	5. Chapter 5

**SPN's My Bloody Valentine Parody – Chapter 5**

_By Eli_Rogue_

_For Lizzy0305 - Hope your day gets better!_

* * *

Sam was dizzy and mentally numb after his 24 hours with Gabriel. He didn't have the energy to answer Dean's sleepy question, "What's with the clown getup?"

"Don't ask," was the only response he could muster before padding into the bathroom for a long shower. Unfortunately, he only got about two strides into the bathroom before his massive foot landed in something thick and sticky. "What the...," he mumbled to himself as he inspected the floor. His expensive bottle of conditioner was open, on its side, next to whitish goo that he knew wasn't his conditioner. "DEAN!" Sam climbed into the shower, closed the curtain, and turned on the hot water.

The door creaked open and his brother's voice piped up innocently. "Yeah, Sammy?"

"You and Cas made a mess on the floor," Sam groused. "Do you mind cleaning it up before I get out of the shower? I mean, I wouldn't make _you_ clean up _my_ jizz."

"Sure," Dean complied easily.

"And wash my damn conditioner bottle so I can use it! You know I frizz."

A couple moments later, the bottle came soaring over the curtain, cleaner than it had ever been.

"So," Dean started casually while Sam hoped he was cleaning his mess, "you never did explain why you were in that clown getup. You _hate_ clowns." There was an obnoxious honk for added effect. He knew he should have thrown away that big red nose.

"Well, you know how Gabriel likes to fuck with people?"

"Yeah?"

"Well," Sam admitted sheepishly, "sometimes he's like an elementary-school boy, picking on someone because he likes them."

There was a long moment of silence from the other side of the curtain before Dean demanded, "You _slept_ with him?"

"Yeah, so? You slept with Cas!"

"'So?' _So_, _Cas _never iced _you_, like, a thousand times!"

"He brought you back," Sam insisted, feeling strangely defensive of someone he hadn't realized he liked.

"He trapped us in TV Land!"

"We got out fine."

"He gave you Herpes!"

Wow. Way to poke a sore spot. "I didn't really have Herpes, Dean! I just had to say it!"

"But you really had The Clap."

"That wasn't even Gabriel!"

"No, but it was funny." Dean snickered childishly.

Sam growled in irritation, but he was just as mad at himself as he was at his brother. After all, he walked right into that one.

Dean finished washing the floor, reminiscing in the memory of dirtying it in the first place. As he stepped into the motel bedroom, he looked at Castiel, now fully dressed in his suit and trenchcoat, and was overcome by dizziness and apprehension. Suddenly, the memory of Cupid putting a spell on him was more vivid than any of the … oh, God … memories he and Cas had made in Eden.

"Dean..." Cas pleaded.

Dean put up a hand to stop him. He strode to their med kit (duffel bag... whatever) and started rummaging around in it. He found the half-empty whiskey bottle he was looking for and chugged it on a single breath of air. In seconds, the glass bottle was emptied and tossed carelessly to the side. Dean took several deep, calming breaths. But the half-bottle wasn't doing it for him, so he opened a new bottle.

"Dean, you shouldn't..."

Dean put his hand up to stop him again, then started on the second bottle of whiskey. After several gulps of the fiery liquor, he paused, feeling satisfyingly buzzed enough to speak. "Look... I don't want to talk about this. This never happened."

Cas looked so, so sad. His deep, blue eyes went wide and teary, like something out of a Hanna-Barbara cartoon, then he ducked his head in despair. "Very well."

Dean couldn't bear to see Castiel so sad. He was torn between conserving what was left of his dignity and comforting a man – angel – he deeply cared for. He was still deciding when Sam stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, his damp muscles glistening oddly in the dim motel light.

"Oh my God," Sam exclaimed, "this fruit is fantastic! Where'd you get it?"

"What fruit?" Dean looked at Sam curiously and saw that not only was his brother emitting a slight pale aura, but in his hand was a familiar purple fruit with an unfamiliar giant bite mark exposing the cotton candy flesh within. "NO!" Dean exclaimed, dramatically extending his hand as if to undo what had already happened.

Across the room, Castiel stood shocked to his core, ghostly pale – even for someone as white as him. "What have you done?" he demanded.

"What?" Sam asked defensively, spitting bits of life fruit about the room.

A tumultuous thunderclap sounded inside the small room, shaking the furniture and making everyone gasp in fear. In the midst of the commotion, a man appeared in the center of the room. He looked middle-aged and was dressed like a hippie in natural fibers, neutral colors, and strappy sandals. As the rumbling died down, Dean could hear Sam choking on the forbidden fruit, but was strangely unconcerned. The inside of his own shirt was glowing like Tony Stark, so he reached inside it and pulled out his brightly lit necklace.

Castiel collapsed to one knee, head bowed. "Father," he said with great deference.

No one seemed to care that Sam was also on his knees, suffocating.

The hippie – _God_, Dean guessed accurately – cocked his head at Sam. "Did you eat my fruit?" he demanded the youngest Winchester. He had a thick accent that could only be described as Jewy. He flicked a finger, and Sam gasped for air. "Better?"

Sam coughed a couple times, nodding. "Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem," God responded easily. God started glancing from Sam to Dean to Cas and back again, figuring something out. His eyes bugged out and he demanded, "What year is it?"

"2010," Castiel replied faithfully.

God looked freaked out for a second, then exclaimed, "God _damn_ it!"

Everyone jumped.

"I told Joshua to wake me when before the Apocalypse!" God turned on Dean, apparently annoyed that this mortal was staring at him shamelessly. "Who the Hell are you?" he asked crankily.

"I'm Dean," Dean replied as if he were talking to... well, not _God_. "That's Sam, the schmuck who ate your fruit," he added, getting a bitchface for his trouble, "and that's Castiel."

God appraised them all again and asked, "Sam and Dean? _Winchester?_"

Sam and Dean nodded. Cas remained bent upon knee.

"If it's 2010, why aren't you two meat puppets for Mike and Lucy?"

"We said 'No,'" Dean answered grumpily.

God squinted at Dean, then walked slowly up to him, getting in his face. "I knew you'd be stubborn the minute I created you."

"If you don't like it, maybe you shouldn't have made me so stubborn."

Sam and Cas held their breath.

After a moment, God belted out a jolly chortle and hugged Dean, breaking the hunter's most important rule. "Would you look at the balls on this guy?" he laughed.

Sam and Cas released twin sighs of relief.

God turned around and faced Cas. "Cas, you don't have to kneel. I'm not in a smiting mood."

Cas stood, but couldn't meet his Father's eyes.

God examined Castiel closely, then asked, "Castiel, did you have intercourse with your human charge?"

Castiel closed his eyes in shame, but took a deep breath and admitted, "I have, Father."

"It's about time!" God exclaimed.

Finally, Cas looked God in the eye. "Father?"

"You think it was a coincidence that you were the one to raise him from perdition? It was _fate_. You two belong together. I mean, you marked him, didn't you?"

Cas looked at Dean hopefully and nodded. "I did, Father."

"Marks like that don't happen by accident, my son. They are the result of two powerful souls binding themselves together because they are meant to be that way."

"Is that the only way to get them?" Sam asked from across the room.

God turned around and looked at him for a moment. "Show me yours," he insisted.

Dean and Cas were immediately interested and stared intently at Sam.

Sam blushed, but obediently turned around and lifted the back of his towel to reveal a bright red upside-down handprint on his left buttock.

"Aw, man!" Dean cringed. He didn't need to see his baby brother's butt.

"Ah," God said wisely. "Gabriel. You know, I didn't plan on that, but you two are a good match. You might have better luck keeping him grounded than I did. Good luck with him. He's a handful, you know."

"Thanks, I've noticed."

There was an awkward moment of silence, then God announced, "Well, I've gotta go! Angels to smite, Apocalypses to stop, you know the deal. Just, one last thing..." He extended his hand and flung the remaining life fruit to Castiel. "Finish that, off, Cas, and you'll get your powers back. Sam's already eaten enough to cleanse him of the Demon blood that plagued him."

"Really?" Sam asked optimistically.

"Really really," God responded. "But no human since Adam and Eve has tasted that fruit, and if you touch any more of it, I will smite your ass just as sure as you are tall. ¿Capische?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Toodles!" God disappeared undramatically, without so much as a wing flap or slight breeze, and within hours, the world was as it should be – and had once been.

Dean, Cas, Sam, and Gabriel lived happily (though in Sam's case chronically irritated) ever after.

The End.

* * *

A/N: So far, I've liked all my endings better than Swan Song. Frankly, I blame the end of Season 5 for my lack of updating. I thought it was awful and I've been too depressed (from hating the eps, not from the eps being sad) to write. But perhaps I will crank out a couple more alternate endings before September 24th – after all, my dog could write better endings, and he doesn't even have opposable thumbs... or the ability to write or spell.

I live for reviews.


End file.
